


Magnetic Dicks: Finding Magnetic North

by Moncube, velvetcadence



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Claiming, Crack, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Fluff, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Magnetic dicks, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Riding, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moncube/pseuds/Moncube, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence/pseuds/velvetcadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "What if boners aren't just boners but they also serve the function of pointing to the thing that makes the guy aroused?" </p><p>Erik's dick starts to act up in the middle of a coffee shop, leading him to meet the soulmate that he had always been looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnetic Dicks: Finding Magnetic North

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to **kageillusionz** and **ang3lsh1** for their beta! And thanks to the wonderful **velvetcadence** that totally ran with this random idea that me (Mon) came up with! ;D

Erik is sitting in a cafe not far from home when he feels his cock stir in his jeans. He pauses, coffee cup halfway to his lips and stares down at his pants, his eyebrows knit together in disbelief. He’s thirty-four, certainly not young anymore. There’s no particular reason that his body should be reacting this way, unless… Erik almost drops his cup in shock.

A sudden surge of need and lust runs up his spine, and Erik stifles a moan. His cock is practically throbbing with desire, almost as hard as if it would be if it was in the middle of a raunchy masturbation session instead of out in public on a sweltering morning.

He gets up and rushes to the counter, fumbling and taking out his wallet from his pants to pay for his drink and leave, but the movement nudges his erection inside his trousers, and he can’t muffle the low groan that rips from his throat.

The barista gives him an odd look, and is subsequently met with a frustrated yet desperate snarl. The man waves him away from the counter to serve the next customer.

Erik starts to notice that as he moves out of the line, his body seems inclined towards a certain direction. His cock is moving towards some point in the distance, like his soul is being pulled by its very thread and seams.

He’s thirty-four, he despairs. Far too old and embittered to be entertaining any fancy thoughts of meeting his soul mate. He'd gotten by without him (because it was a ‘he’, Erik was certain, always a he), had a flourishing career without him, lived his life the best he could without him. And here he comes now, with no warning or provocation, about to turn Erik's life upside down simply by virtue of birth.

"Is something the matter?" says a gentle, accented voice from behind him. Erik starts, turning around to face a stranger, belatedly trying to cover his obscene crotch with his hand—or something. He comes face-to-face with electric blue eyes and wind-tousled hair.

His cock gives another twinge, an exquisite jolt of pleasurable pain. Erik wants to bite his fist to stop himself from coming undone and forever ruining Blue Eyes's first impression of him.

The man’s eyes flick downwards at his crotch, and Erik thinks to himself as his own gaze follows down, _this is it, there goes my chance._

When he looks up, the stranger's glance is directed to Erik’s trousers as well, although what Erik doesn’t expect is the grin spreading across his handsome face.

"Finally, I've found you," he says, trying and failing to open his coat discreetly, and revealing a similar tent in his pants, pointing towards him.

The man closes his coat once again and takes a step to the left, and sure enough, Erik's cock tries to shift towards him, or as far as it can manage within the confines of his pants. Erik bites his lip again, the added friction driving him crazy.

The man tries not to laugh, and takes another step back, making Erik groan in frustration.

Erik can only gasp when the man cups the side of his neck and kisses him, a deep drugging kiss that makes him sway into his arms. It's like he's lost control of himself, as if every invisible thread of his soul is pulling towards this one man, screaming, _Here he is! Here he is!_

Their hips press together for one blinding moment. Erik can only see stars flashing behind his eyelids.

"Here, let me," the man murmurs, unbuckling Erik's belt.

Erik panics a little, and even through the pleasure, a part of him still remembers that they are still in a coffeeshop, in public where anyone would be able to see them.

 _Don't worry_ , a metaphysical voice drifts into his head, _I'm a telepath. I can make it such that no one pays attention to us._

Erik moans into the kiss at the man's perfection. A telepath! Another mutant. His soulmate is gorgeously, devastatingly handsome, _and_ a mutant.

Once his pants and underwear are peeled back, Erik rocks into the exquisite grip on his cock, squeezing just right at the base and pulling almost roughly, just the way Erik likes. The man is watching him with lustful, heavy-lidded eyes.

Erik buries his face into the man’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of his new partner.

His mental litany of _oh no I hope people won’t see us_ comes off him in waves, and the man squeezes his hand on Erik's neck to steady him.

"Shhh, Erik," he says as he strokes down the fine hair at the nape of his neck. "Just let go, it will be okay." At these words, Erik's oversensitive cock gives one final throb before coming all over the man’s hand, spilling a few drops onto the coffee shop’s floor.

It’s obscene, how the man brings licks at the wetness on his palm before unzipping his pants and using Erik's come to fuck into the circle of his hand. It doesn’t take long for him to come, with how aroused he already is. There’s nothing like the sight of a man in the throes of pleasure, Erik thinks dazedly.

With his clean hand, Blue Eyes whips out a handkerchief to wipe off as much as he can before ushering Erik and himself out the door as quickly as possible.

It’s only after a few blocks of excited sprinting that Erik realizes, with belated horror, that some of their come had been left uncleaned on the floor of that coffee shop. He feels the blood rushing to his face in mortification, and makes a mental note to give an extra generous tip the next time he stopped by.

 

After a while, they come to a stop, laughing together and trying to catch their breaths, and Blue Eyes catches his eye. Erik realizes that he doesn’t even know the man’s name. He lets out another laugh and slaps him on the back in jest.

“It seems that you already know my name, but I’ve yet to learn yours.”

“Erik.” Blue Eyes’ smile is blinding, and when he wraps his arms around Erik’s shoulders, Erik returns it in kind with his arms around his waist. “Erik, Erik, Erik.” He seems to roll the name around his mouth like a sweet. “Call me, Charles. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

Erik twists his fingers into that floppy brown hair and leans in to kiss him. “Likewise, Charles.”

They make it back to the flat in record time. Erik takes a moment to press Charles against the door, kissing him silly while manipulating the tumblers in the lock to work open. Charles is spurred on by this show of mutation, able to sense Erik’s mind as it works.

“You’re remarkable,” Charles chuckles breathlessly against his cheek. “Truly.” He follows the thought with a dart of a tongue, and Erik groans as the door finally gives way, leading them inside the flat.

It isn’t much, he knows. Living his early years scraping by has got him living minimalistically, and it carries out in his work as well. There’s a large sculpture situated in the middle of the room, odd bits of metal scattered about, just waiting to be known by his ability and shaped to its truest potential. Charles doesn’t spare a thought for the interior decorating, though he does take care not to step on anything delicate. As sparse as Erik’s home is, he’s used to coming and going as he pleases, leaving dishes of one at the sink, hanging clothes at the back of the couch and suchlike. The sight of a pair of jeans resting over the arm of a chair has him ducking his head in embarrassment.

Charles turns his cheek with a quick kiss. “Trust me, my flat is much messier. Comparatively, yours is immaculate.” _Stop worrying_ , is what he relays with his mind, and Erik does exactly that.

Undressing doesn’t take too long, with Erik’s belt already undone since the scene at the coffee shop and Charles’ shirt untucked and his trousers unzipped. With every inch of revealed skin, Erik feels like he’s going into a frenzy, as if every strip of pale skin on Charles is begging for his teeth to mark and his lips to suck.

 _Do it,_ Charles goads, guiding his head down to his neck. Erik bites down, drawing blood, as Charles does the same, and the bright spark of bonding flashes into their minds at the exact same moment.

It’s...overwhelming. Encompassing. Every thrum of Erik’s blood is perfectly mirrored to Charles, and if he can focus on it enough, he knows that it will be within his capabilities to sense the movement. Charles probably feels the same, if his blown pupils and heavy breaths are anything to go by.

 _Can you... feel what I feel?_ Charles sends, but it feels different from when he uses his telepathy. It feels more, closer, intimate, visceral. And yes, _yes!_  Erik can. He feels everything through Charles: each breath Charles gulps down like a drowning man, his throbbing arousal at his hip, even the soft bedsheets that Erik just changed that morning. Erik presses his forehead to Charles’, feels the bond give another spark. He feels their happiness at having found each other intertwine.

Before he had left for the coffee shop that morning, he had a long list of things to do: laundry to be done, clients to email, food to be bought. Who would have known that in a few simple hours, his world would be turned upside down, and that the things that he had thought were pressing now seemed so insignificant compared to having Charles with him now.

Tenderly, Charles thinks at him, _Let’s rest now. I think we deserve it._

After a few hours of rest, they gently pry themselves from each other’s embrace.

“Charles, I really have to get on with my errands.”

Charles hums and pecks the bridge of Erik’s nose. “I understand. See you tomorrow then?”

Erik kisses Charles full on the lips in return, and says, “How about later tonight? I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Erik lounges on the sheets, lazily fondling himself and watching Charles go around his bedroom, opening drawers and cabinets, poking at odd bits and ends he'd accumulated over the course of his decade-long stay at his flat.

Charles reaches down to a particularly low drawer, and Erik feels his cock give a little jump at that, but more than just that, the head of his cock seemed drawn to Charles' body at an almost magnetic intensity.

From across the room, Charles gives a little hum, and wiggles his ass in the air, obviously, mischievously deliberate, and Erik’s dick gives another appreciative throb.

"Charles, come here," Erik beckons, and Charles looks up from where he is bent over.

"Yes, darling? See something you like?"

Erik nods, his adam's apple bobbing, and gives himself one long firm pull, precum beading at its tip. He sighs and tips his head back as he feels a dip in the mattress beside him. Charles pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, and moves closer to tentatively lay a hand on Erik’s chest.

When Erik doesn’t react other than to bare his throat, Charles pushes more firmly, straddling his thighs. He squeezes lube onto his fingers, teasing the pucker of his ass before pushing two knuckles in. Moaning, he crooks his fingers and makes a show of undulating the air over Erik’s skin, getting Erik all hot and bothered without a touch. When Charles takes Erik in hand and positions himself right above him, the first slide in is electric.

“Charles, I—” Erik latches his hands onto Charles’ hips and moans into his clavicle. He had already been on edge from simply being near Charles and watching him, wanking off to him, and if he isn’t careful he is going to come before any real action even takes place.

Charles isn’t even trying to make it last, however. He’s pushy when it counts, trapping Erik’s wrists by his head so that he can hover over him, cock pressed to Erik’s torso, the both of them sharing breaths as they slip and slide against each other. They’re so close to each other physically, it’s really not too much of a stretch to imagine that they’d be mentally entwined so closely together too.

Erik’s climax begins as a steady white burn in his mind. As the pleasure crests, it flares like a supernova, bright in his mind, amplified by Charles’ power, linked as they are. Charles comes the same moment he does, and the air is so hot between them he doesn’t notice the hot streaks of come on his torso before Charles is collapsing on top of him, their chests pressing together with every inhale.

_God, it’s…_

_Good, isn’t it?_

_Good?_ Erik think in disbelief. How could anything like that simply be _good_ when all he can think of is _perfection_.

They stay like this for a while, curled up together and pacing their slowing heartbeats to the sound of each others’. When Erik withdraws with a slick sound, Charles gathers the come sliding down his thigh on a finger, licking that up and winking at Erik teasingly.

The shower isn’t made with two grown men in mind, but somehow they manage it. After the earth-shattering sex, they’re in no hurry for another round, but the shower manages to be sensual without being too sexual. Erik learns about the taste of Charles’ nape when there’s water running down it, and the feel of his back when it’s slick with soap, and the ticklish spot under his arm when he accidentally pokes it. Likewise, Charles is learning the handspan of Erik’s waist, the taper of it from his broad shoulders, the firm muscle at the back of his thighs, honed from running every morning.

When they’re clean and giggling like naughty children, they end up back on the bed before towelling off to sneak under the sheets.

They spend the next few minutes just breathing in the scent of each other, just feeling, just _being._ It’s so rare that life allows them the luxury of time spent in each other’s arms, and they’re going to take whatever they can get.

There’s time now for Erik to roll over and meet Charles’ eyes, to let his thumb sweep the downward curve of his cheek and finally revel in being with his soulmate.

 _I honestly thought I wouldn’t find you_ , he thinks sadly, a bittersweet wave of emotion surging up in him. He thought of his years growing up in a school where everyone naturally gravitated to each other, while he himself had been introverted and isolated by his own choice. He’d been so angry as a teenager, and  seeing other boys one by one finding their soul mates had only exacerbated the ache of loneliness.

It hurt, but he thought that he could live life on his own. He’d resented Charles without knowing him, without realizing it was resentment, and so locked himself up in his own world where the only thing that mattered was the next meal and the next sculpture, the next muse that could move something in him. He had been getting by fine, he’d thought. It only took meeting Charles to realize that he’d been so numb all along.

Having Charles with him, feeling his touch...it feels like he is breathing for the first time.

 _I love you,_ Charles articulates with his eyes and with his smile. As he touches Erik’s temple, Erik can see behind his eyelids the same aching loneliness that was mirrored in Charles’ life. One particular image strikes him. Charles, at the graduation party, in his good shirt and trousers. He’s smiling, holding a glass of fruit punch, but inwardly he hurts, watching all the other soul mates being together and seeing families celebrating. Charles honestly had no one else. His mother had been wasting away on the other side of the world and his father had left only a few fond memories and an enormous inheritance that couldn’t replace whatever sliver of parental love he was missing.

That isn’t true, however, because now Charles has Erik, even if he had to spend practically his whole life looking for him.

“You’ll never have to feel lonely again,” Erik vows. He takes Charles’ hand and presses his lips to it softly, and it’s both a truth and a promise.

 


End file.
